


You Are My Home (What Would I Do Without You?)

by Skellington101



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Corin dies, Crying, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Helmet comes off again but for sad reasons, Hurt No Comfort, I'm really sorry, Keldabe Kiss, M/M, Reminiscing, Sad Ending, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellington101/pseuds/Skellington101
Summary: Times seems to slow to a crawl when he turns the last curve, the dread turning to lead and sinking in his limbs when he sees the body strewn across the floor. He feels anchored to the spot, frozen in place with words of denial pouring from his lips.The Empire closes in on our duo once more, but this time proves to be much more dangerous and far more fatal than the last.
Relationships: Corin/Din Djarin, Corin/Dyn Jarren, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Corin (LadyIrina)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 147





	1. Fate Cut Us Short

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Family and Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758992) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> Yeah, so this started off of an idea in the Mandorin discord about Din havin' a loophole with his creed in that no "living" being can ever seen him without his helmet, so what about Corin's non-living body? A truly good idea, Starshifting, I give a toast to you for this whole fic. The problem with this though, is that the baby is in the room, so he technically did break the creed? But he's not really aware of that at that moment so it gets a pass. (Baby gets all the passes, for being so darn cute and protective)
> 
> Songs:  
> Coldplay - Fix You  
> Kodaline - All I Want  
> Olafur Arnalds - So Far  
> Ursine Vulpine & Annaca - Lover's Death

_They almost made it._

The Death Trooper swings at him, hooking an arm around his helmet and pulling him forward.

Din braces his arm against their chest and shoves viciously, swearing internally all the while. He uses the other hand to punch them once in the throat, enough force behind it to leave the Trooper gagging and choking even through the armor.

Panic and worry rampage in his heart, pulses in his veins and beats loudly in his ears. It can't be a distraction, can't afford to be, because he has to return to them in one piece or he can't protect them otherwise.

The shove gives him enough distance to pull out his other blaster and pull the trigger three times in quick succession.

One last corpse drops to the ground, a smoldering hole in the center of their chest and his blaster emitting a small wisp of smoke. A small hint of satisfaction tinges his heart, but he brushes it off.

Concern fills any other part of his chest not currently occupied by the maelstrom of emotion writhing within him.

Well over a dozen bodies, covered in unsettling, pitch-black Death Trooper armor, were now scattered about the small cavern they were hiding in. Dust settles in the remains of the fight, long won over.

He doesn’t spare them another look.

All Din _does_ care about, are the wails of the small child in the receding tunnel leading away from the room. He holds the blaster at the ready and runs.

His mind is screaming at him, _he shouldn’t have left them alone, they might have been followed, maybe they’re okay_. He desperately wants to believe that is true, and it’ll be what he’ll discover at the end of the winding path.

The ever-growing pit of dread hollowing his gut says otherwise.

Times seems to slow to a crawl when he turns the last curve, the dread turning to lead and sinking in his limbs when he sees the body strewn across the floor.

His heart stutters to a stop. It's paralyzed in his chest, along with his limbs and his voice. He wants to scream, can feel it bubbling in his throat.

He's anchored to the spot, frozen in place with words of denial pouring from his lips. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

The child’s cry is what jumpstarts his limbs into overdrive. His armor feels like a vice around his body, far too tight to even breathe.

Din barely hears himself desperately mumbling under his breath, “ _please, please, please—_ ” in time with the small child’s wails, getting closer and closer. _Please be okay, I don’t think I’d handle it if you weren’t. Please—!_

His hands shake as he carelessly pockets the blaster. It has no purpose now. There's nothing left of the enemy.

He sent them both into a trap. A second platoon had lied in wait, had ambushed Corin, where Din had sent him. _He did this—_

Din drops to his knees roughly, uncaring of the shards of black crystal that litter the ground, not paying attention to anything but Corin and the child, who huddled closer to the body crumpled on the floor, still wailing.

Corin, his former Storm Trooper, who he had handed the child to minutes before Death Troopers poured into the cave.

Corin, the other parent to his child, who had given him that look with his bright blue eyes, one of intimate familiarity to Din that radiately stubbornness and fiery protectiveness, worry and concern meshed up into one single glance.

Corin had pulled them together, in a lasting embrace that had strengthened Din’s determination tenfold. His forehead tapped against Din's helmet. _You better be right behind us, or I will come back for you,_ he’d whispered fiercely into Din’s ear through his helmet.

Now, his voice no longer hums in the air. His breath no longer disturbs the dust or moves the armor covering his chest. Even in the crackled visor of his helmet, caked in dust and blood, he’s far too still, far too quiet for a man whose presence radiates like the sun.

His body is curled inwards, arms braced as if they once held something incredibly precious. His head is turned against the floor, and when Din gingerly pulls him to lay on his back, his head rolls limply to face the ceiling.

His once vibrant blue eyes are dull. Lifeless.

_No, no, no, NO—_

His vision blurs, he can barely see the child, laying one hand on Corin’s motionless chest and whimpering distressfully. Their distraught, teary eyes pierce into him, and he doesn’t know what in the world to say or do at the moment. Only that he’s been in that position before.

He forces the sobs that want to bubble up back down his throat and wraps one hand around a limp wrist, touching the silent pulse points, and endlessly wishes in his head that it’s all some terrifying, realistic nightmare like so many that he’s had before.

But this nightmare doesn’t fade, and the agony that blooms in his chest is never relieved.

He ignores the pain in his leg, in his arm, and the utter agony crushing his chest to scoot his legs underneath Corin so he doesn’t touch the floor anymore. His gasping, frantic breaths shake them both.

Din goes to wraps one arm around his back to pull Corin’s limp head to his chest, feels as his head lolls lifelessly against Din’s pauldron and his hand skims an unfamiliar texture on his back.

He peers down and he has to wrench his head back and bite his tongue harshly to keep the scream in his throat from tearing out of his lips.

On the right side of his back, a charred black blaster shot, still burning hot to the touch as Din tries uselessly to press down, to push the life back into Corin’s body where he cradled him in his arms.

 _A perfect shot_.

Din wants to choke on the utter irony it invokes.

Corin didn't deserve this. From the terrified, obedient Storm Trooper that he had been, to the brave, reckless, self-sacrificing fool with a damaged heart filled to the brim with kindness and care.

To the man Din had fallen for, had given his heart to, even without realizing it.

The damned man had barely had the courage to ask for his name, hadn’t even known it until Din told him a few months ago and yet he still trusted him to the end.

He never got to show him his face.

That realization sparks another wave of raw anguish, and before he can even think twice, he lifts a hand to the lip of his helmet and tugs it off. The breeze stings his wet cheeks, and he can see Corin’s face clearly now.

Blood dripped from his lips and a cut on his forehead and dirt smudges his ashen cheeks, and Din thinks he looks hauntingly serene like this, in a way he never wanted to see.

Din tips his forehead forwards and lightly presses his head against Corin’s, for the first and last time.

_“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum cyar'ika.”_


	2. But I Will Always Be With You

Life continues on.

Din is left with a cooling body of his beloved one and his wailing child in a cavern filled with dead troopers.

Time moves forward.

Carefully, he lowers Corin’s body back to the floor and slides his helmet back into place. He picks up the child with trembling hands and checks them over for wounds. They keep on crying, softer now, large green ears limp and downturned. They huddle against his chest, clinging to the fabric desperately.

He carries the child away—away from Corin, away from the carnage and bloodshed, away from the lingering tragedy—and back to the ship hidden away.

The world outside the cave is alive and breathing, a sharp contrast to the heavy aura of death radiating from inside. It is a sharp contrast to the numb and empty feeling in his chest, where raw and caustic emotions have eaten away any semblance of peace or consideration for the world around him.

The planet is covered in leafy-green flora, a different environment compared to many planets they’d been to. It was mostly untouched by civilization, save for a couple abandoned outposts that they’d checked.

Din had thought, _plenty of cover, a quick escape, and they’d shake off the Empire on their tail_. But not enough cover, and not fast enough, since the cruiser had descended upon the small planet.

Wreckage from the downed cruiser still smolders in the chilly afternoon air, the orange glow blending in with the light cast from the setting sun. They were cut off from their own ship, but Corin was still damn good with his rifle and knocked it down. The passengers still lived, pursuing them into an ambush set ahead of time.

The familiar flicker of hatred tinges his tongue and he nearly wants to shout the vitriolic words that are flowing in his mind.

He walks past it, stepping over corpses and following the poorly marked trail, numb to the carnage and the pain of his injuries. The child stays firmly curled up in his arms, small sniffles and whimpers coming from them every so often.

Once they get to the ship, Din takes only a couple limping steps to walk aboard, and the physical presence of the ship nearly drowns him.

Newly bought weapons for Corin lie on the table, taken apart mid-cleaning process. A few of his clothing items are strewn around, a favored jacket and a worn cloak hung on a storage crate. Navigation books he was in the process of reading. A hand-made trinket made of metal and wire, depicting two figures and a very small, large-eared figure standing at their feet.

This is their space. _Was_ , a small, traitorous portion of his mind whispered tauntingly.

It’s enough to tighten up his throat and turn his head downward, until he spots the cradle he’s looking for.

Din sets them down in the soft, downy blankets and they reach out for him, looking increasingly desperate and panicked. But with a few soft clicks, the cradle begins to hover in place. Their moves to grab at him abate, and they look at him with those fearful, sad eyes. He can’t bring himself to say anything or the fragile structure he does have will shatter.

He grabs a large piece of canvas from storage and walks back out, the cradle following him all the way to the cavern again. The exhaustion and grief hits the child hard, and they fall into a restless sleep.

He’s glad, at least they don’t have to witness the devastation once more as he steps over dead Troopers and into the tunnel.

Now that he’s more aware, he sees the chaos and slaughter of the Death Troopers. It puts a chill in his veins, but not fear of the child because while it wields this dangerous power, it has only ever been used in his defense.

Blood splatters the walls. There are multiple pieces of different Troopers lying around, some crushed by an invisible force and others torn from the socket. One in particular, looks like a scrap heap, their helmet nearly turned inside out and the visor shattered all across the floor, closest to Corin.

He narrows his eyes, and pretends not to feel the dark satisfaction and peace of mind the sight brings. The emotions will rot his chest if he clings to them, but in the moment, they are reveled in.

Din kneels on the floor again. Lays the canvas out flat and carefully moves Corin onto it. His eyes are closed, peaceful.

He brushes his hand through the black locks and cups his face, cleaning the blood with a wet cloth. His hands move down, to rest on the pauldrons latched to his shoulders.

With care and purpose, he detaches the pauldrons and slips them into an empty pouch at his hip. Corin looks wrong without them, without the shining beskar to protect him, even in the afterlife. They will always be his, Din decides, but they will part with their owner, to protect another someday. _That is the way_.

He unclips the vibroknife from Corin’s belt, a personal favorite if not for the close range defense it could provide Corin whenever he went and did something reckless or self-sacrificial. A little ‘C’ is engraved on the hilt, and Din can felt the vice closing over his throat again.

He remembers, suddenly and abruptly, Corin rushing to shove a familiar piece of paper in his pouch before leaving the ship. He pulls that out too, and unfolds it to show the messy, handcrafted picture.

The grief and despair rush back, full force, and the picture blurs in his vision. It hurts so fucking much.

* * *

If life was ever fair, Din would have time to complete the kote kyr'am in peace, so Corin would reach the sky and flow freely. Though it took time, Corin was accepted by the other Mandalorians, and his sacrifice would have certainly been allowed for him to be given the honor.

But life isn’t fair, and there are most likely several more cruisers on their way to scout out where their other cruiser has fallen. And if they come during the ceremony, it’s no doubt that they’ll see the vestiges of smoke lingering, no matter how careful he is. He doesn’t have enough _time_ , and that tears away at him, tears at the ragged and broken edges of him that won’t come back together.

He lands the ship in a clearing far away from the carnage of the battle and makes his way down to a small opening in a sheer cliff. It converges into a large alcove covering a small stream running into a large lake. The sky converges into dusk, and small glowing bugs flutter in the air. It would be beautiful, if not for the haze that hangs over him, that makes the rest of the world seem muted and subdued.

A little secluded world, undisturbed by anyone and hidden to the rest of the world. A better resting place for his beloved.

_They stumbled upon it in a chance encounter with the local wildlife, and the creature couldn’t fit through the small entrance, snarling and hissing angrily while they waited it out._

_Din righted the rifle strapped to his back and checked over the child in his arms for any nicks or scrape from his abrupt collection from the ground minutes before. He looked up, about to call out for Corin and check him over for any hidden injuries, the reckless or'dinii, but the words die out on his tongue._

He takes out his tool for digging and starts digging in a little cubby of grass next to the lake.

_Sunlight had shone through gaps in the ceiling where vines fell loose and free, dangling down and dipping into a large lake that overtook most of the alcove. Small bugs chittered and produced soft buzzing sounds. Fish swam and burbled up to the surface, and occasionally a small tentacle would brush the surface of the lake._

_It was beautiful._

He doesn’t know how long has passed until the hole is deep enough and the child begins to wake up.

_But all of it was a backdrop. Corin stood there, looking out at the alcove, and Din’s breath stuttered in his lungs._

_Black locks glittered in the patchy sunlight and his bright blue eyes practically glowed with awe and excitement. He grinned at Din, a bright smile filled with delight, and he didn’t think he could find anything as beautiful as that._

_“Do you see it, Din?” Corin said in a hushed tone, the amazement clear in his voice. “It’s beautiful.”_

_He couldn’t take his eyes off of Corin, not that he could tell. “It is,” he agreed quietly, holding the child up to see the place._

By the time it takes to pick up Corin’s body from the ship, cradling him carefully in his arms, and to lower him into the damp ground, the child is awake. They coo and whimper sadly, as he shovels dirt back into the grave. He stacks mossy stone after stone, and it’s not long before a moderate pile is stacked up.

Din doesn’t notice the child leaving the cradle, dangling from the side and dropping down without a sound. He doesn’t notice until they slowly walk up to the grave with a small stone. It is placed at the front of the pile, and he watches quietly, mournfully. He marks it with a small sheet of metal, a mudhorn engraved in the center.

They both take several long moments, standing still in the cold, desolate night. He waits, then picks up the child and begins the walk back to the ship, the cradle hovering behind them.

There is no destination in mind. He should find the rest of the covert, but no doubt they’ll ask questions. Questions he doesn’t think he can answer or they’ll break whatever little part of him he has left for the child.

But for now, they need to leave. And he _needs_ to pull himself back together.

Din kneels, once again, down to the cradle the child is in. Their hands reach out, and he lets them grab the helmet, one three-fingered hand pressing the visor.

He whispers roughly, “We keep going. For him.”

“That is the way.”

In the end, he stows the pauldrons away, in a small, secure cubby in the cockpit. The vibroknife is sheathed and attached to his belt, within reach and accessible, but hidden to those looking.

The drawing—

With careful fingers, he folds the priceless drawing in half, small enough to tuck into a small journal that he keeps navigation notes in. That journal gets tucked away in a waterproof pouch underneath his armor, protected and close to him.

The ship powers up and his flies out of the atmosphere, away from the carnage. Away from the loss of his beloved.

Months go by. The grief sits, unbidden in his chest, for Corin, for the child. Loss hurts, another mark torn deeply in his chest where it will stay unhealed like the others. Despite how young the child is, Din knows they will feel it too. For the loss of a parent, one like Corin will never dissipate from their mind.

For himself, a partner in heart and mind. In his strength and way, a guide to a happier life where they all could’ve lived in peace.

Perhaps an impossible feat, with a Mandalorian who broke his oath to a dangerous client, a child with the power to use the force as they please, and a rogue stormtrooper who left for a baby and a Mandalorian.

They never would have been left alone. But it was nice to have thought about, once.

Now, it sits as a broken dream on a tiny planet nestled in an abandoned galaxy.

It’s harder now, to deal with the work he once did single-handedly. Every task is more difficult now. But he never stops moving forward, because he knows Corin be disappointed if he didn’t, for the child and himself.

Time moves forward.

He still takes odd jobs. He tries, _tries so hard_ to find a safer place for the child, he can’t let it happen again, he _can’t lose anyone else—_

With each day, he keeps going. Keeps trying, for the child and himself, because that is what Corin would want. So, every night, Din remembers and never forgets.

 _“_ Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum— _” Corin_.

Life continues on. But a broken part of him, part of his damaged heart stays on that little abandoned planet, with those bright blue eyes and sunshine smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Din lost his home twice OOP--
> 
> He still has to take care of the baby too, I kinda wanna write a part two for him to meet up with Paz and Raga again and they're all sad bc they both liked him too and he never got to meet the rest of the covert.
> 
> Apologies if this was way out of character or too overdramatic, but I thought, with all the trauma Din's been through with losing his parents, he'd take losing anyone else pretty harshly. And our little golden boy is too lovely not to cause that kind of reaction.


End file.
